His room was overrun with flies, ants, and mice; but instead of destroying them, he used every effort to encourage them. He had constructed boxes that acted as traps, and which the superintendent of the hospital informed us were filled to overflowing with various sorts of insects. He had one box filled with grasshoppers, another with ants, a third with flies, and so on.
This occupation was something that I could not understand. What was his purpose — for I felt reasonably sure there was a purpose — in making this collection? I could understand the tank of reptiles after my reading of Johannes. They were undoubtedly symbolic of the Master himself. Perhaps he had caught them in the belief that they were kin of that Thing. But the insects and vermin — these I could not explain at all.
I was not to remain in darkness for long, however. On returning to the room, I stood outside for a moment, and peered through the aperture in the door that is frequently used for observation purposes in mental cases. The simulated indifference of the doctor had passed away, and, under the impression that he was now alone, he was working furiously.
At first I could not understand his occupation, but soon it flashed upon me what his object was. In his hand was a box. It was filled with flies; in a semi-stupor the man was slowly sprinkling handfuls of the pests out of the box where they lay too weak to move. He then fed them carefully to the creatures within the tank! I noticed at his hand other empty cages, and supposed that they had been filled with ants and grasshoppers. He fed the last of the flies to a water- snake and with great contentment replaced the boxes in a neat pile upon a shelf.
Grasping the handle of the door firmly, I entered the room.
His face a mask of fury, my friend whirled upon me with a champing of teeth. Like a cornered tiger about to strike, he crouched against the wall, but, with a smile, I seated myself upon a chair. Seeing this, and that I did not intend to interfere with his pets, he relaxed somewhat, and sat upon the bed. His face was cast in a moody pattern. His brow was knit in a frown as if pondering something.
Slowly the tensity of his body relaxed, his face assumed the normal lines of good humor that I had so often seen upon it, and he looked up.
“By heaven, Randall! If what I think has happened, I am better off dead!” he said.
“No matter what has happened, I am pleased to see that you are still fighting,” I answered.
“Yes, but the effort is almost too much. I wanted to kill you when you came in. You had better watch me, for I am liable to do it the next time. A feeling came over me that you were in my way, or rather, in the way of that hideous Thing that has me in its power, and that you ought to be killed and fed to the sharks.”
“Why fed to the sharks?” I asked with much interest.
“Because they are of the sea — devour each other. Every living thing they devour, if it is not of the sea, is another soul added to their power — to the power of B’Moth.”
“Extraordinary!” I ejaculated in amazement.
“That’s the word. But I know — I can’t say how I know, but I feel it just the same — that the object of this business is to place an overwhelming power in the hands of the filthy abominations at the bottom of the sea, and in the depths of the jungle.”
“You’re right there. I’ve discovered that. Is that why you have been feeding those land creatures to the reptiles in that tank?”
He followed my pointing finger, and shrank from his pets in abject terror. “Did I collect those things?” he asked quaveringly.
“Yes. Can’t you remember it?”
“I have some idea of laying out bait for insects, under the impress of a will stronger than my own, but why I have those snakes, I don’t know.”
“You stole them this afternoon,” I said quietly.
“Stole them, eh? I can’t remember that at all. This thing is getting a pretty tight grip upon me. I’m afraid that unless we can do something, I am finished. I can’t remember what I’ve been up to at all for the past few days. I’m losing this fight.”
“We’ll pull you through. My idea is that you obtained the reptiles in order to feed the other things to them, and thus increase the proportion of souls for the deep. I can’t explain it any better, but you can follow, perhaps. You wanted to help this ghastly business by strengthening the mental influence of the Master and his kind.” I shuddered as I found myself using the word “Master” so easily and familiarly.
“No doubt you’re right. I can’t imagine any other reason for such an act. The very sight of these green, slimy things chills me now. I can’t think of it without a shudder.”
“There’s one thing I want to ask you.”
“Go ahead,” said my friend without much enthusiasm.
“Are there any particular times when this thing comes to you?” “No particular times, but on certain occasions. By Jove, I ought to have thought of it before! It’s when there is fog outside that I experience the drowsy feeling that precedes these attacks.”
I could not repress a cry when I heard this. I remembered my own experience in the automobile that night, now so long ago, as it seemed. The drowsy feeling had come to me with its stupefying accompaniment when the fog had rolled in through the cracks of the car. It had disappeared when I lighted the heater. An idea came to me — a possible means of saving my friend in his extremity.
I rang the bell for an attendant.
“Lay a fire, and light it immediately!” I ordered.
The attendant looked at me in amazement. The day was a hot one, and my order must have seemed as crazy as the sick man’s ant- collecting.
“Hurry,” I snapped, as I saw the look that I was coming to know spreading across the face of the patient.
The attendant flew like the wind, realizing that the matter must be important. While I anxiously watched the struggle that was, I know, going on in the mind of my friend, the fire was laid. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. His jaw was gritted in fierce resolve, as he watched the attendant futilely attempting to ignite the kindling.
There was no time to waste. I dashed out of the room and into the dispensary. My eyes found a bottle of alcohol. Snatching this from the hand of a startled intern, I ran back to the room as fast as my legs would carry me.
Dr. Prendergast was writhing upon the bed and clawing frantically at the tenuous wisps of gray mist that seemed to be stretching out their sinuous tentacles to draw him into their clutch. They seemed actually imbued with life, as I am convinced they were. He lay upon the bed as though trying to hide from the relentless purpose of this Thing that strove to blast his sanity.
The alcohol flew from my hand, the match ignited it, and the flames licked greedily at the kindling. The thin wisps of mist writhed and twisted, and gradually vanished as the fire gained volume and roared a menace to this Thing from the depths.
Upon the bed lay the racked form of my colleague, shuddering and weak, but smiling — and in his right mind!
“We’ve won!” he cried jubilantly, grasping my hand.
“Rather say ‘we are winning.’ ” I smiled, pleased at the success of my experiment. “Don’t let that fire out, no matter how hot it becomes in here, or you’ll soon find out that this business isn’t finished. Look! Can’t you see it out there on the lawn? That mist — twisting and curling like a thwarted Thing? It’s alive, I’ll swear. If you let that fire out, or open this window, it’ll be after us again with a vengeance!
Don’t forget — keep that fire burning night and day! It’s life or death now!”
I left immediately, for I had much to do. I hurriedly drove to Brocklebank, a small town in the country. Stopping the car before the portals of a large residence, I rang the bell. The servant, who knew me well, ushered me without introduction into the library of my old friend, Geoffrey d’Arlancourt, a student of antiquities and strange beliefs. I wondered that I had not thought of him before.